//A Chance Encounter Pt. 2

THIS IS PART 2 OF A FICTION PIECE THAT I STARTED HERE.
IT PROBABLY MAKES A LITTLE MORE SENSE IF YOU READ THE FIRST PART, BEFORE READING THIS.
CHEERS,
MR.B

Business in the bar has picked up. A couple gets dinner at the front window table. They don't speak as they pick at their food. It's clear that they've recently had a fight and niether of them is dealing with it. This is just a cease fire, to get food, between battles. The guy looks out the window for something else. She looks down at her plate, slowly rearranging her salad, without any satisfaction.

I am leaning at the bar, waiting for the bartender. I hear her come up from the basement stairs, behind the bar. I hear the sounds of bottles being stocked behind the bar. I am aware that she's done and is standing with me, watching the couple eat their dinner.

"They won't last for very much longer," I say.

"No. They won't," she says. "I've watched that entire courtship play out over the last... oh... let's see, year or so, now. A little over a year ago. They came into the bar here for their second or third date. I could just tell how happy they were. He played her a Van Morrison song on the jukebox and the slow-danced together, up there by their table. I think they kissed at the end. Might've even been the first kiss."

"That's sad," I say.

"Yeah, it is, I guess. You really want things to work out well in the end. You want people to meet, fall in love, make it work and stay together forever, but it just doesn't happen like that, does it?" She leans on the bar and lets her hands rest in front of me.

"Where's the ring?" I ask. I tap the finger on her right hand and she draws it back like I've stung her. "The indentation. I can see it. Where the ring used to be. A little too tight. It's gone now. Just thought I'd ask."

She looks at me for a bit, trying to read my intentions on my face, and I look back at her, letting her take her time. I hide absolutely nothing from her. She rubs her finger for a bit and I see her visibly relax.

"Gone. I couldn't have it around anymore. So I threw it into a cornfield."

"Really. How does one go about tossing their wedding ring into a cornfield?"

"I was picking my girls up from my mothers place. She was packing them up and I was outside the house, looking out at her cornfield. I grew up in that house. I used to play in that cornfield. I used to think it was so big, that it went on forever. And I wanted to lose that ring in a place I couldn't ever find it again. So, I climbed up into the bed of my truck and I threw it in there, as hard as I could."

"Sounds pretty permanent." I say.

"Yeah, it's gone. And so's he. And that's just the way that it is." she looks down at the ground, hard emotions on the edge of her face. Always the professional, though, she fights it back and regains control.

"So maybe what you were saying about that couple, wasn't just about them, at all. Maybe it was more about you. And what you want." I look at her and she looks back at me. And we are connected, defenses lowered on both sides.

"Maybe it was about all of us. What we all wish for."

"Amen to that," I say. I stand up and step back from the bar. "I'm hungry now. Know any good joints around here where a big man can get a big salad?"
\
"A salad? Seriously? You don't want something bigger from our kitchen?"

"Nope. I want a salad. And I want to buy you dinner. And judging from your figure, you don't eat meat. Am I right?"

"Here we go. Look friend, I'm not interested. I'm just the bartender, here, okay?" she's decided that I'm coming onto her and she's ready to shut me down.

"Look, you gotta eat, don't you? And you've been here as long as I have been and neither of us have had a bite to eat. Let me buy you dinner, just this once, and in return, we can eat at the bar and have a nice conversation, like civilized people. Later, after we've eaten and I've had a nice visit with my old friend, I'll settle the tab and walk out the door and everything will be as it was before. Except, you'll have eaten a nice meal, for your troubles. You gotta eat."

Through this whole speech, she's watching me carefully, with renewed defenses. I can see her processing through it all. Old, well-informed instincts telling her that I want something that I haven't named yet. That the dinner is just the prelude. That something else will come after it. But then she looks at my suit and I'm no local. Hair cut short. Beard flecked with grey and neatly trimmed. And I'm stone cold sober on the four glasses of ice water that she's poured for me. All evidence indicates to her that I'm likely not a threat.

"I'll make you a bet," I say, "If I win, I buy us both dinner. If you win, I don't know, I'll settle up, pay a big tip and walk out the door. End of the evening. Or whatever you want. Sound good?"

"What's the bet?" she asks. Her eyes are smart and she's looking for the angle.

"If I guess your full name, I buy us dinner. If I'm wrong, you win. Whatever you want."

"Are you a cop or something?"

"No. Why? Did you do something illegal?"

"No. I just can't figure you out."

"I'm a mystery. It's for sure. Want to take the bet?" and when she looks around the bar to see if anyone is listening, I know that I have her.

"Okay. What's my name?" she looks at me, excited.

"Write down the order first. Where am I going? I don't know this town." I slide a napkin to her and a pen from inside my coat.

"Are you serious?" But she writes down the name of a vietnamese restaurant and her order, hastily, and she slides the napkin back at me. "Here. So what's my name?"

"Allison Graham." And I take the napkin off the table, sliding it into my pocket.

"No fair!" she says, "That was my maiden name!"

"And it's your name again, isn't it?" I walk over to my booth and take a quick drink of water. "Hold my booth for me, while I'm gone, won't you? I'll be right back."

"Who are you? How did you know my name?" she follows me down the bar, incredulous. Not scared. Not angry. Curious. Interested. Amazed.

"Answers will be served over dinner. Be right back." and I step out into the cool, summer night and walk to the Vietnamese restaurant, next door. Without looking, I know that she watches me walk out of sight.